


You're a Pond and I'm an Ocean

by lovefoolthatsme



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe - Actors, Confessions, F/F, Feelings Realization, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovefoolthatsme/pseuds/lovefoolthatsme
Summary: Then, without fanfare or catharsis, the realisation drops into her lap; Wonwoo is absolutely and irrevocably in love with Jun.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29
Collections: Haggly 2: The Remix





	You're a Pond and I'm an Ocean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lacquer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacquer/gifts).
  * Inspired by [envy the birds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503573) by [lacquer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacquer/pseuds/lacquer). 



> The sections in italics come directly from the original text so please check out em's amazing fic for more context of what is going on here.
> 
> Em, I so hope I've done your story justice and, if not, let's just look at black cat Jun and forget everything else exists...

> _Once upon a time, Wonwoo allowed herself one wild and reckless thing. Standing atop a skyscraper, looking over Gotham, she had whipped off her mask and stared Jun in the eyes. A scuffle three blocks and six bruises ago had knocked the wind out of her and here, with her secret identity a ghost in the wind, she felt it leave her again._
> 
> _Jun had been sitting with her feet over the edge of the building, posture laughing at the idea of gravity or safety codes. When she looked up at Wonwoo, her eyes had gone wide and panicked. Her own mask was securely on her face._
> 
> _“What are you doing?”_
> 
> _“My name is—” Wonwoo only got that far before Jun pounced, hand slapping over her mouth._
> 
> _They landed with Wonwoo on her back, Jun crouched over her. The sleek curtain of her hair fell around them both, hiding their surroundings from view. More desperately, she hissed, “What are you doing?”_
> 
> _Wonwoo ripped her hand off her mouth and grabbed the collar of Jun’s suit. “My name is Park Jinyoung. I’m telling you because I think you should know.”_
> 
> _Jun shook her head. “Don’t you know who I was? I could have figured that out any time. You shouldn’t just trust people darling, you don’t even know my full name—”_
> 
> _“I live on the corner of Cherry and 4th,” Wonwoo continued, inevitably. “I work at the Gotham Observer. My current story is boring as hell research into public infrastructure, but it pays. I’ve been thinking about getting a cat but I’m worried about being home enough.” Come home with me this time. Don’t leave like you always do._
> 
> _Jun’s fingers spasmed next to her head, claws digging into the concrete. In a gesture that Wonwoo knew was a distraction, she had kissed her, filthy and wet, one hand threaded into her hair. Wonwoo was only a woman, not a saint; she kissed Jun back._

“Cut!” Yells the Director, his voice only barely carrying over the wind machines aimed at the set.

Jun rolls off of Wonwoo with a low whistle. It’s possible that she was trying to tell her something but all Wonwoo could focus on was the pounding in her head, or was it her chest? At least Wonwoo can take some solace in the fact that Jun is also still panting when she hauls herself up to her feet.

“Careful,” Jun smirked, “if you keep acting like that I might just fall in love with you.”

Wonwoo has half a mind to smack away the hand Jun offers her, but opts instead to grab hold with a little more force than necessary. Jun’s teasing has been relentless since the first table read and yet Wonwoo still hasn’t been able to determine whether or not she’s just imagining the honesty in her tone. Even just the thought that it might be real is a threat to Wonwoo’s blood pressure- has been for at least a few months now. 

When they’re both on their feet, Jun lets out a bright laugh as she extracts her fingers from Wonwoo’s grip. 

“No need to be so serious.” Jun teases, rubbing her knuckles. “You know, some people would probably find me charming, might even ask me out for dinner before letting me pin them down like that.” Jun says it in the same jovial way that she says most things, her natural good humour making it impossible for Wonwoo to gauge her intentions. She thinks Jun might be trying to play it off, attempting to pry a reaction out of her. It would probably have been more effective if Wonwoo couldn’t still feel the ghost of her lips against hers.

Wonwoo rolls her eyes, huffing a half hearted laugh- if only to stop her from smiling in that panicked strained way that fills Wonwoo with guilt when she thinks she might have crossed a line. Silently she wishes she could muster a less cowardly response but it seems to have worked. Jun’s smile turns a shade more genuine and she’s about to say something else when one of the Director’s assistants grabs her lightly by the elbow and leads her further into the dark studio, away from the stage lights, green screen and a still reeling Wonwoo. 

As Jun’s voice slowly gets drowned out by the shuffle of extras and calls to wardrobe, Wonwoo takes a deep breath and absentmindedly touches her fingers to her bottom lip. Fuck.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

The only time Wonwoo sees Jun for the rest of the day is when she pops her head round the doorframe of Wonwoo’s dressing room on her way out. At least by this point Wonwoo has been able to regain some control of her brain function and wishes her a safe drive home, with a smile calm enough to be testament to her years of acting experience. It’s not until she’s sure that Jun is out of earshot that she lets herself release all the pent up frustrations of the day. She groans loudly, her face cradled in her hands as she shakes the thought of Jun in black leather out of her brain, completely missing the way Jihoon comes to a dead stop outside the door. When she looks up again, she catches sight of him in one of the large dressing room mirrors- looking an absolute picture dressed only from the neck down in his Batman costume but with black tar paint still around his eyes, with the air of a prisoner caught mid-escape.

“We don’t ever speak of this,” Wonwoo says matter of factly. Jihoon only blinks in response. She wonders if he might try to say something but he seems to think the better of it because he simply nods at her reflection and continues down the hallway before his manager, Soonyoung, catches up and makes him take more selfies for his social media accounts. 

Wonwoo tries to find the humour in the situation and, sure, there’s plenty to laugh about but she fears that attempting it might rattle loose her last remaining thread of sanity. _What is she doing?_ She’s been acting for long enough now that she knows better than to let the barrier between fiction and reality blur this much, but no line in the sand can hold up to the absolute whirlwind that is Wen Junhui. Distantly she knows that there aren’t that many scenes left to film, that only one of those will be with Jun. Except, whenever she turns to those pages of her script, her chest aches with the knowledge of how easy it will be to say those words. The realisation had dawned on her a few weeks ago when she ran a finger across the highlighted lines and could imagine in crystal clear high definition what Jun would look like cooking breakfast in their kitchen. 

Exhausted, she sits back for a moment, willing the mental images of Jun with her hair in a towel and a glass of champagne in her hand, not to eat her whole. Maybe things will return back to normal when everything is behind her and she doesn’t know the melody of Jun’s laughter by ear. Even now her fingers itch to find the notes on a piano. Jun can play the piano, she told her that once. She wonders if Jun would ever play for her. Quietly, Wonwoo mourns the arrival of the day that she is able to make sense of these _feelings_ , never mind move past them.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

The past two weeks of filming had gone by like those nights every month when the moon is barely visible- you know they exist but you never seem to notice when they do. A lot of the days on set feel like that when Jun isn’t around. In fact, the only thing worse than Jun being there, draped over one of Wonwoo’s shoulders or absentmindedly resting a hand on her waist as she recounts her weekend’s happenings, is being left to imagine it instead. 

Wonwoo pulls an exasperated hand down her face, met immediately with a tutting Mingyu, smacking it away with a powder brush lest she smear any of the five layers of foundation he’s applied to her skin. She desperately needs an excuse to derail herself from this train of thought. Wonwoo pulls a face at Mingyu in response and decides that this’ll have to do. 

“Can you run these lines with me?” She asks, handing Mingyu her copy of the script. Mingyu barely manages to conceal how pleased he is to be asked before clearing his throat and trying to school his expression into neutral interest. 

“From the top?” Mingyu replies, eyebrows raised as if he already knew the answer and was trying to show off. Wonwoo can’t help but to smirk at his excitement.

“Please,” she motions for him to begin. 

“Don’t panic.” Mingyu grits out in what Wonwoo assumes is his closest approximation of Jihoon’s voice. It’s funny to imagine how Jihoon might react to the performance and Wonwoo would laugh if she wasn’t certain that Mingyu would take it personally. 

“When have I ever?” she retorts, focusing on injecting the right amount of coolness into her tone. She flicks her eyes back up to Mingyu when he doesn’t say his next line. She nods at his script to prompt him but he’s still staring at her as if she had the line written backwards on her forehead and he was trying to decode it.

“Is everything okay?” Mingyu’s concern is clear and genuine and Wonwoo immediately feels like retreating. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” she tries with equal levels of measured confusion and amusement. Mingyu’s frown only deepens.

“That was your only line in this scene,” he hands her back her script, “I don’t see why you need me to practice.”

Wonwoo bites the inside of her lip. Stupid. She’s about to make an excuse when Mingyu interrupts her.

“If this is your way of flirting then I am very sorry to-”  
“What?” Wonwoo sputters “G** no, that’s absolutely not what this is.”

“Okay good.” Mingyu seems placated but is visibly pouting in response to Wonwoo’s vehement denial. “I’m spoken for anyway”, he demures, “and I think Jun would try to hurt me if you were.”

Wonwoo is about to launch into another rebuttal but Mingyu’s last point stops her in her tracks. _Why would Jun care?_

“Why would Jun care?”

“Very funny.” Mingyu rolls his eyes in the good natured way you would at a child who’s trying to play dumb. His expression quickly shifts into confusion when he realises Wonwoo isn’t trying to maintain some facade.

“We know the two of you are together,” he adds with a whisper and a nudge to her shoulder. Wonwoo just stares on completely dumbstruck. They’re together?

“Wait, is this why you’ve been moping around the studio for the past week?” Mingyu’s doing a terrible job of hiding how worried he is all of a sudden. “Jun mentioned you seemed upset with her, did you guys have a fight?”

It takes Wonwoo a moment to regain her bearings. If anything the pause only it makes it worse because now the entire situation is laid out in front of her in all it’s lucid, revelatory glory. Did Jun think they were dating? If Jun thought they were dating then Wonwoo has been a terrible girlfriend. She mentally chastises herself- this is ridiculous, they are definitely not dating. Are they?

Mingyu shakes her shoulder slightly from where he took a step back as if she might bite him if he got too close. 

“Please stop making that face, it’s really unsettling,” he whines. 

Without saying another word, Wonwoo does what she should have done in the first place; she turns tail and retreats to her dressing room. 

When the door is securely locked behind her she turns and makes direct eye contact with her own reflection. She looks like her foundations have been knocked out from under her and she’s almost grateful because at least that begins to explain the pressure that has building in her chest. If she could claw at her brain until any other kind of reasonable explanation came loose, she would. 

With her back pressed against the door she lets herself sink slowly down to the floor. It’s difficult to unpack emotions when you’ve always neglected to label the boxes so Wonwoo faces the facts. People think she and Jun are dating. Jun thinks Wonwoo is upset with her. Wonwoo hasn’t been able to catch her breath in what feels like a month.

Then, without fanfare or catharsis, the realisation drops into her lap; Wonwoo is absolutely and irrevocably in love with Jun. 

It’s so bloody convenient that there are parts of her that pieced it together before her brain could catch up. Was it her hands that always seem to be reaching for Jun, from their first handshake to the clandestine touches Jun might have paid more attention to than Wonwoo thought? She massages her temple with long fingers. Perhaps she should blame her knees: always warm under Jun’s hands; always pressed against her’s; always weak at the sight of her. Wonwoo isn’t sure when she started crying but she can feel the cool air against her wet cheeks. It takes everything in her not to keel over when she thinks about Jun’s breath against her jaw when she’s so close whispering in her ear. 

Wonwoo heaves herself up off the floor and to the mirror where she can face the accused head-on. She wants to wail at sight the guilty eyes that stare back at her. Eyes that will look at Jun and the mouth that will smile without her permission. No betrayal feels greater than that of the lips that have kissed hers without it getting to mean anything. Maybe it was in one of those rehearsals that things should have clicked for Wonwoo’s heart but a hollow beat to the chest confirms that it’s just as useless as she feels.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Any emotional preparation Wonwoo had made the night before proved useless when Jun bursts through her dressing room door the next morning. She hadn’t accounted for how different Jun’s voice would sound now that she knows why it paints the world a shining copper. 

“Good morning” Jun lilts, elongating the vowels. 

Symptoms of being in love with Jun include: dizziness, high temperatures, and a dry throat. You may also experience chest pains as your stupid yearning threatens to fill your lungs and render you speechless. Wonwoo has spent a sleepless night coming to the conclusion that the only cure is to tell the truth. 

“I need to talk to you about something.” Wonwoo blurts out. If she’s going to do this she needs to detach herself from this fantasy of a future she constructed with Jun. Even after everything she’s unpacked there’s a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that says she can’t hand it all to Jun and expect her to hold it. It’s heavy and rough and Wonwoo doesn’t know what she’ll do if Jun sees it and laughs. 

Kindly ignoring that she never got a proper greeting, Jun nods and flops down into the seat Wonwoo usually reserves for her coat and scarf. Jun drapes the latter around her neck, idly playing with the tasseled edges as she waits for Wonwoo to continue. The sight is enough to catch Wonwoo’s breath before she can take it all in. She clears her throat.

“Um, I was talking to Mingyu yesterday and he mentioned some stuff,” Wonwoo starts. 

“Oh really?” Jun leans forward excitedly. “Is this about how he and-”

“Actually that’s not important,” Wonwoo dismisses with the wave of a hand. If the conversation gets off track she’s scared that she might really take this to her grave. “This is about you, actually.”

Jun points a finger at herself, eyes wide and questioning. It’s endearing until Wonwoo remembers that Jun thinks she’s upset with her. 

“Nothing bad!” Wonwoo rushes to say, “I mean, I guess it might be depending on-” she stops herself. “You know what, I should just say it.” 

Jun must see something in Wonwoo’s expression because she leans closer and places a gentle hand on her knee. 

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks quietly, twisting slightly so she can meet Wonwoo’s downcast eyes. Wonwoo is staring silently at where Jun is touching her; steeling herself. Deep breath.

“Jeon Wonwoo and Wen Junhui to set please”, comes the tinny voice, suddenly, over the tannoy system. Jun looks around at the offending noise and moves to get up from the seat when-

“I’m in love with you.” 

It takes a moment for Jun to register what Wonwoo said amidst the commotion but then her face goes slack. Wonwoo braces herself for impact, jumping out of her seat to put some distance between them. She doesn’t know what look she must be wearing on her face because inside she feels numb all over. Jun blinks at her, a million emotions passing over her features before it settles, alarmingly, on hurt. 

“Is this a joke?” Jun laughs, but the sound is too cold. Wonwoo can feel panic take hold.

“I- no,” Wonwoo croaks, willing the disappointment and fear out of her voice.

“Wonwoo,” Jun steps closer, reaching out but Wonwoo can’t bear to look at her.

“Can Jeon Wonwoo and Wen Junhui _please_ come to the set!” the voice blares impatiently.

When she does meet Jun’s eyes, they’re filled, beyond all expectation, with something that resembles hope. This final fact hits Wonwoo with the force of a truck; could Jun love her back? Suddenly, everything becomes too much and Jun is just staring at her mouth.

“Is this really how you wanted to tell me?” Jun asks. She says it in her usual teasing way that lifts some of the weight off of Wonwoo’s chest but it comes plummeting back down when her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It was self consciousness and fear that made Wonwoo want to shield herself and her heart, and she didn’t once stop to think that Jun deserved to see it all. 

“I’m so sorry,” Wonwoo breaks. For loving her; for not doing it well enough. 

Jun draws in even closer, holding Wonwoo’s face in her hands. Wonwoo thinks she might burn down to an ash.

“Listen, I-” Jun doesn’t get to finish her sentence before an assistant raps loudly against the door. Call it cowardice that Wonwoo chooses to pull away. Or blame pride for the fact that she wants to get this right first. Truthfully, it is shame that reminds her just how minuscule she is in the face of Jun’s enormity. If Wonwoo is a pond, then Jun is an ocean and she deserves so much more than Wonwoo just tried to give her. So she leaves, and she’ll keep trying until it’s enough.

♥︎♥︎

Focusing on steadying her breath, Wonwoo gets into position for the scene. It feels searingly intimate after all she’s aired between them. She forces her attention away from the way her eyes are still stinging and makes a choice. This is the scene that she has not had to practice more than once. Wonwoo knows she should have done so much better and these words are maybe truer than anything her heart, with its traitorous tongue, could offer. She needs Jun to hear every single one of them.

> _Jun blows out a breath like she’s coming up for air. “You didn’t give me much of a choice, darling. What was I supposed to do when you gave me your life like that?” She reaches up to push back Wonwoo’s mask. It’s only when Jun’s hand settles on her cheek that Wonwoo notices it’s shaking. “You offered me something I didn’t think I’d ever want.”_

Wonwoo doesn’t notice she’s mouthing Jun’s words back to her.

> _“And what’s that?” Wonwoo asks. She shifts forwards a bit, pressing their bodies more firmly together. Every point that Jun touches feels warm, the sensation almost unreal. She’s been searching for months, and here Jun is. Alive._

The strain of trying to remain in the scene is clear on Jun’s face. Though Wonwoo might not have noticed the nearly imperceivable way her eyes widen with realisation if she hadn’t been imagining them constantly for months. 

> _“An apartment on Cherry and 4th,” Jun says. “A girlfriend working at the local newspaper. The chance to adopt a cat.” Wonwoo notices her eyes watering. “You’ve absolutely ruined me, you know. I’m a thief, but all I want to steal is the key to your heart.”_

Mentally, Wonwoo berates herself for wanting to do nothing more than to kick at that line in the sand. She itches to touch her, carefully wipe away the tear threatening to roll onto her cheek. Wonwoo catches herself just in time. _Is this real?_ She hopes that Jun understands her silent plea.

> _Wonwoo hits her shoulder, but it’s weak, barely more than a push of her hand. “We’re going to have to talk about this, you know. You could have talked to me instead of running off.”_

This time Jun does crack a small, disbelieving smile.

> _“I will,” Jun says._
> 
> _“And you’re going to have to figure out how to convince my landlord. She doesn’t like me at all.”_
> 
> _“I will.”_

_Please, please, please._

> _“And you’re going to have to split utilities with me and figure out what to name the cat and help me build a bigger bed and…” Wonwoo trails off, knocks her head into Jun’s. She started crying sometime in the past few minutes, ugly tears that blur what she's seeing before her._

Wonwoo’s facade shatters with all the glory of a stained glass window, and Jun catches every colourful shard. Be real.

> _“I will.” Is all the other woman says. She reaches up and takes Wonwoo’s hand, easing off the brass knuckles. “My name is Wen Junhui. I’m back, darling.”_
> 
> _“Junnie,” Wonwoo says, turning until she can press her face into Junhui’s neck. “Don’t you dare leave again.”_

“Don’t you dare leave me,” she mouths against her collarbone; just for the two of them.

> _A hand smoothed down her back. A kiss pressed to Wonwoo’s head. “I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.”_

Real. So unbearably real and perfect.

♥︎

“Yeah,” the megaphone squeaks, “we’re going to need another take”.


End file.
